Que Tengo Miedo Tenerte y Perderte Otra Vez
by Starjargon
Summary: In which the Doctor reads spoilers, slowly falls in love, and gets his hearts broken. Or "every time the Doctor 'accidentally' glimpses River's diary, another first awaits him." Story and chapter titles from versions of the song "Bésame Mucho." T for later chapters.


**A/N- Beta'd by the lovely kehwie.**

 **My plan was to upload once a week, but RL got unexpectedly ridiculously crazy! Sorry! Prompt from rdficathon on Tumblr: Doctor gets a peek of River's diary.**

* * *

The first time it happened, it was quite by accident. Mostly. Wellll, he'd like to think of it as an accident. She'd insisted he take her to dinner on the Xquar asteroid, celebrating... _what_ she refused to tell him. He even wore a nice suit– he loved a nice suit, with a proper waistcoat and an elegant black bowtie and everything. Something about seeing himself in a bowtie always made him feel... stylish. No, that wasn't the word. Hip? In vogue. Trendy. Sexy... tiny bit, he conceded to himself with a cheeky wink. However, when he saw River's expression as she took him in, he decided that that elusive perfect word didn't matter so much. She looked at him like he was... _amazing._ He grinned again at her reaction, offering her his arm as he led her into the revolving restaurant.

"Have we done Atlantis III yet?" she asked after they'd ordered their meals. "Those mermaids were _quite_ the adventure," she inferred in a sultry tone. At his wondering gaze and slight gulp, she gave him a coquettish smirk. "Apparently not." She licked her pointer finger, turning the page in her well-worn diary.

"Let's assume I haven't done too much and go from there," the Doctor interrupted her before she could continue.

At the very brief, nearly undetectable flash of hurt in her eyes, he hastened to reassure her, "But the Frost Giants on Asgaard weren't nearly as gigantic as advertised."

She perked up a bit at this, the sparkle in her eyes returning as she glanced down at her diary. "Something to keep in mind, then," she said with a wide smile he didn't quite understand.

They talked all through dinner, and then she pulled him up to dance with her. She placed his hands high on her waist as she lightly wrapped her arms around his neck. As he stared down at her grey-green eyes, he couldn't help but beam at her. When she gazed up at him, he saw, all too clearly, the life he could have with her– the timelines that swirled around her far more chaotically than any other human he'd ever seen. He gulped, and his hands reflexively squeezed her closer. He gave her a charming grin when she looked at him, but he didn't believe he had managed to fool her. She stared at him suspiciously for a beat more before leading him back to their table.

"Be right back," she whispered in his ear as she excused herself. He drank a sip of champagne and tried to steady himself while he nodded.

He felt an urging in himself, a familiar desire coursing through his veins, which he firmly stamped down. The desire to run. To plough forward and never look back. To forget all about this mysterious woman and what she could, _would_ , possibly mean for him. To him. Fear and restlessness battled excitement and attraction when he thought about the woman he was waiting for. It was an unfamiliar feeling. Or a long forgotten one.

He didn't know how to do this. How to _properly_ do this...

With Elizabeth it'd been easy. She'd been infatuated and he'd been... well, not very attached if he were honest with himself, which he rarely tried to be. Christina had been a fun distraction. He didn't really know Joan. Not as the Doctor. Not as himself. The whole incident with Martha had left him wary of opening himself up, of hurting anyone that way again. He didn't like being the man he'd been with her– allowing her to become more and more infatuated without any intention of ever returning her affections. Oh, she'd been brilliant- so smart and capable and adventurous. She just hadn't ever been, _could_ never be... his. But River– River was all of those things. And none of those things. And he didn't know if he could stop running from her long enough to have... whatever it was they would have. Had had. If he could ever be the kind of man who... She knew his name. No one knew his name. Not any more.

Which meant River Song was something else entirely. Instinctively, he jumped to his feet, the adrenaline on which he thrived spurring him on and away from this name-knowing woman. From the realisation that he wouldn't be alone any more. From the idea that the Doctor was just a part of who he was and who he could be and there was someone who knew that and didn't care and who did care and who _lov-_

In his haste, he knocked the table, items wobbling precariously. River would understand. He wasn't _this._ This man who she looked at as though she knew everything and would forgive him anything and would stay by him unconditionally. This man who would always be reliable and who would wrap his arms around her and hold her close to dance. Who was committed to her in the only way he knew how to be. Who was worth dying for.

He didn't know how to be that man.

As he did his best to quickly put the table to rights, River came up next to him, surely sensing the apprehension in his face whilst steadying the delicate glasses and quickly catching all the dishes as though cleaning up his mess was something she was accustomed to. When she leant far over the table to stabilize the vase in the middle, her bag tipped and her journal fell out.

As he automatically bent to retrieve it, his too-quick and curious mind processed the words before he'd even made the effort to do so.

 _The Seventh City of Cairo proved to be_ quite _the adventure for us. He was younger this time around, I could tell. He still looks at me so...distantly. I wonder if I'll ever see it in his eyes again- the absolute love and trust of_ my _Doctor._

His eyes skimmed the page sporadically, spoilers and inquisitiveness at war. He caught bits of sentences here and there: about how they had run, but from what? River reached over and grabbed her diary out of his hands just as he read one final phrase.

 _and he grabbed for my hand- but I think it must've been the first time he'd done so for anything other than running. He seemed surprised at himself, just for a moment, and only I would ever be able to tell, but he didn't pull away. I've missed him. And I will miss his hands in mine._

Shutting it pointedly, River gave him a look.

"Well, all good things..." she announced as she swiftly and efficiently tucked the journal back into her bag with a sigh and a smirk. His eyes followed its journey until they snapped to her face once more.

"I could take you back... give you a ride home."

She looked at him, her smile never wavering even as she shook her head and reached out to cup his face, her grin teasing but an acute sadness in her eyes.

"You wouldn't know the way."

He looked away for a moment, not understanding why he should feel guilty for that. She took a deep breath, and he thought maybe he'd been imagining her sorrow. She shrugged flirtatiously, then said, "It's okay, Sweetie. Just give me lift to the university?"

He nodded, and he felt at a loss as she gave him the coordinates he needed. He could tell the entire time he was driving and she wore an infuriating smirk on her face that she was holding in a comment, but she just shook her head fondly when he asked what was so amusing.

As they landed, she thanked him for a lovely evening before heading out the door, a coy little wave her only goodbye as she swayed her hips, making him gulp to himself once more.

Who was River Song? He wasn't sure he was ready to find out.


End file.
